


a rush at the beginning

by orphan_account



Series: the louvre [1]
Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: (Brief Mentions), Anxiety, Cuddling, Dancing, Developing Relationship, Kissing, Light Angst, M/M, Pining, Sharing a Bed, Slow Burn, Written from Shane’s POV mainly, also there’s a lot of symbolism cause I’m on my bullshit, but it’s not like sexuality crisis angst it’s just like, do they like me back or not angst, hand holding, kind of, sara shane and ryan are all friends, theyre both single in this, this shit is soft i apologize
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-26
Updated: 2018-02-26
Packaged: 2019-03-24 06:54:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13805838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: shane notices the change happening between them. there’s nothing sweeter than ryan bergara.___





	a rush at the beginning

**Author's Note:**

> hey ! this is my first shyan fic I’ve ever written and I kinda just ran with it. Please never send this to the boys or anyone they know ! I am fully aware they are not together in real life. Anyways here goes.

Shane begins to notice the slight shift in their dynamic when they’re on their way to Massachusetts to film the Lizzie Borden episode.

He can feel it when Ryan is nearly glued to his side as they walk through the airport. He wants to say it’s because of the crowd and lack of space but then Ryan’s hand comes up to latch onto his arm. His fingers curl around Shane’s bicep in a way that says he doesn’t want Shane to get too far from him. Shane, nervously, picks up the pace by default. Like he’s attempting to run away from the subtle softness Ryan’s stitching between them.

“Slow down, dude,” Ryan says, huffing out a laugh but matching Shane’s pace all the same. Their height difference makes walking a bit awkward, and if he had the balls he’d just slip his hand into Ryan’s instead. But he doesn’t. He does, however, slow his pace some so instead of trailing behind him, Ryan sidles up next to him. He expects the hand to slide off his arm, but it stays firmly put.

God, when did Shane get in so deep he’s overanalyzing a hand on his arm?

“Sorry, I sometimes forget you have tiny legs. You make up for it so much with how fast your mouth runs,” Shane jokes easily, trying to diffuse his nerves. He can see their terminal. Thank god. TJ and the rest of the crew are already piled into the line waiting.

“Shut up dude,” Ryan cackles. He wonders if Ryan even notices he’s holding onto Shane. Wonders if it made him nervous reaching out for him like that. Shane swallows hard as they get stalled behind a few people.

“So uh, you okay?” he asks, finally glancing pointedly at the hand on his arm and then back at Ryan. He’s wearing his glasses and his hair is flat, a bit of stubble growing on his cheeks and chin. The younger looks confused for a moment before yanking his hand away. As soon as it’s gone Shane wants it back.

“Sorry, airports make me anxious. Well everything makes me anxious,” Ryan apologizes, laughing nervously. Shane knows Ryan has anxiety, it’s no secret and Ryan isn’t ashamed. It makes him frown, something falling flat in his stomach. Ryan just wanted guidance. He’s fine with that. He is.

“Oh, you can still- y’know,” he mumbles, avoiding looking down at Ryan. He can feel those wide eyes staring at the side of his face and blinking.

His hand reaches up hesitantly and Shane can feel the gentle pressure of his fingertips back on his bicep.

“Thanks,” he says softly as they fall in line behind TJ. Shane nods. It’s nothing. He’s his friend.

Later, as Ryan is snoring in the seat beside him on the plane, Shane restlessly fixates on the thought that Ryan subconsciously sought him out for comfort.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

The Lizzie Borden house is complete bullshit, as Shane predicted. That’s not to say he’s not having a great time, he always does on these idiotic journeys. Watching Ryan scream and jump at everything; a stupid doll, a tapping noise so quiet both of them barely picked it up, a bump in the dark. It’s all so entertaining to Shane, along with a new lingering feeling of fondness. He wonders when that change took place.

He finds himself going out of his way just to get a reaction out of Ryan, just to get those perpetually wide eyes and wobbly smile to look his way. Shane steals the “ghost’s” money. Ryan doubles over in laughter. It’s just what he wanted. This isn’t far from normal, he ponders.

When they sit face to face in the dark, flashlights on their faces as they recite a stupid nursery rhyme, he can feel the shift again. Their knees are touching, eyes locked. Intimate. Shane says the rhyme on autopilot while his hands sweat, watching Ryan’s smiling mouth match his. And then Shane is enacting his defense mechanism: be creepy, be weird, scare Ryan. He overdoes the scary cartoonish voice, makes his face slack and haunting cause he knows it’ll get to him.

Ryan’s concerned smile grows and he can hardly finish the rhyme before he’s wheezing again and folding in half.

“Dude I hate you!” Ryan yells, pushing off the bed and standing up. Shane smirks up at him and stands. Ryan’s running a hand through his hair and laughing, covering his eyes. Shane fucking relishes in it. He wants to lean down while his eyes are covered, press his mouth against Ryan’s and surprise him some more.

Shane swallows. So that’s what it is, he really is straddling the line between all that they are and all that they could be. Does Ryan see that line too? He knows he could ask him if he feels this cosmic shift as well. Couldn’t he?

“You’re an idiot,” he says instead, grin plastered on his face. They come back down.

 

__

 

  
The bed isn’t that big. Shane knows his feet are going to hang off the end. The pillow wall between them is almost pushing him off the edge as is and he turns on his side to avoid falling off. Behind him, Ryan is standing beside the bed with his hand hovering over the lamp because he’s nervous to turn it off. Shane can practically feel his anxiety rolling off him.

He feels anxious too, a different kind though. He’s about to sleep in a bed with Ryan and they’ve done it a billion times before, but this shift between them, this weird thing he has settling itself in his chest, makes it feel different.

“Oh man I do not want to do this,” Ryan says nervously. The cameras are on so there’s still a smile in his tone, but he knows how much Ryan hates this. Shane wonders if he’d say the same when he realizes there’s been a change between them.

Shane rolls over on his back and glances over at the younger man. His glasses are on, grey sweats matching the soft BuzzFeed sweatshirt he’s wearing. He’s looking hesitantly at Shane. Always so hesitant.

“It’s not haunted, Ryan. Nothing ever is,” he says, feigning the causal nonchalance he’s best at. Ryan shakes his head.

“Fuck you, Shane,” he mutters, climbing into the bed and turning out the light. Shane only hums in response, acting like he’s oh so tired. He’s hyperaware of all the shifts Ryan makes, his phone light glowing in the dark. He lays flat on his back, ankles crossing.

“If you lay like that you’ll have sleep paralysis,” Shane mumbles. Ryan scoffs but rolls over on his side anyways. Shane rolls his eyes into a pillow. Typical. They usually banter like this for a while, for content’s sake.

“Maybe that’s why you think you can see ghosts. Cause you sleep on your back all the time, and you have sleep paralysis. Y’know, hallucinations,” Shane grumbles, forcing his eyes shut as he rolls over again, back to Ryan.

“I can see ghosts. Ghosts are real. And please, you believe in shit that’s not real,” Ryan retorts. _You believe in shit that’s not real_. The statement makes Shane go stiff, feeling as though by some means Ryan has found him out. Ryan has seen through him. _This, whatever’s between us, it’s not real._

“Y’know. Bigfoot. It’s bullshit.”

Shane’s whole body relaxes. Of course. He’s an idiot. He’s a chump. A dumbass. He’s being ridiculous.

“You’re only arguing with me because you’re scared to go to sleep. And Bigfoot could be real. He’s meat and bone,” Shane argues, voice slurred from the slight bout of emotional whiplash he’s just had. It passes itself off as sounding tired.

Ryan mutters beside him, his phone going dark and his body shifting around. He used to stay up later texting Helen, but it’s been months since that ended, for lack of a better word.

Shane forces his eyes closed again. He can hear Ryan’s breathing, not as quick and panicked as it was earlier but still slightly rushed. Shane breathes out when he breathes in.

 

 

__

 

 

There’s a soft tapping noise outside the window. Scraping, like a branch. Shane’s eyes peel open, blurry vision without his contacts in or glasses on. His eyes fixate on the morning light outside the window, the tree branch casting a shadow onto the floor.

There’s a weight on him.

Oh. Ryan’s asleep, torso laid across the sad pillow wall and his cheek resting comfortably on Shane’s chest. His fingers are splayed out on the fabric of Shane’s shirt, soft snores escaping his lips.

Shane’s eyes go wide, body stiff as a board, Ryan’s breath light as a feather. He feels the material of Ryan’s sweatshirt underneath his own hand, realizing abruptly that he’s cradling his shoulder.

One by one, carefully, he lifts each finger off of Ryan.

This is different. This is a whole different world.

It takes Shane five minutes to successfully slide out from underneath Ryan. One leg out, one arm out. Another arm out, another leg out. Feet on the hardwood floor. He grounds himself. Okay.

He wonders, did he pull Ryan in as they slept? Or did Ryan seek him out unconsciously in the dark? Either way, the implications of it have Shane making a space between him and the bed quickly and quietly. Ryan’s foot shifts and his cheek squishes against the pillow. He doesn’t wake up.

The shadow from the tree branch outside is now across Ryan’s face. The light from the window drapes itself across him, Shane’s own shadow interrupting it along Ryan’s side.

  
Shane flees. He leaves the room and descends downstairs quickly, fear hot on his feet. He wishes this stupid house was haunted, wishes it was a ghost he was afraid of.

 

 

  
Upstairs, Ryan lifts his face off the pillow, awakening at the sound of a door opening and closing. He squints, staring out the window at the light. Morning. They survived.

His hand is outstretched and the pillow wall has been crossed and destroyed. That’s . . . different.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

  
“Hey, I got you Chipotle.”

It’s been a week since Ryan slept on top of him. A week and a day since Ryan held his arm through the airport. And three years since they first talked at that stupid party.

Shane looks up at Ryan from his desk, taking out a headphone quickly. He’s holding a bag with a burrito bowl in it, smiling at Shane sweetly.

“You gonna take it big guy?” he asks, thrusting it out to him more. Shane flushes and takes the bag from him. It smells good. Ryan sits down beside him. He smells even better. Like coffee and clean laundry.

“Thanks, what’s this for?” Shane asks, pulling the bowl out of the bag. It’s exactly what he likes. Ryan looks a little confused by the question, like he himself really had no clue.

“Oh, I dunno. Just– thought you might want lunch,” he answers, logging back into his computer and avoiding Shane’s gaze.

“Did you get anything for yourself?” he asks casually. Ryan taps away at his keyboard.

“Oh– no I had lunch here earlier,” he mumbles.

Shane opens his burrito bowl and smiles. Maybe he isn’t delusional. Maybe Ryan feels it too. Or maybe Ryan’s being a good friend.

“Thanks little guy,” Shane hums and pats him on the shoulder. Ryan leans into it lightly, smiling at Shane in a way that makes him want to simultaneously kiss him and call him an idiot.

 

  
The next day, Shane brings him lunch and coffee. Ryan turns up at his desk with the same idea apparently. They eat outside, sitting across from each other as the L.A. sun washes over them. Ryan’s face is covered in light, looking almost exactly the same as he did that morning in the Lizzie Borden house. It makes warmth fill every inch of Shane’s body and he can’t help but shift his feet underneath the table, bracketing Ryan’s in an act of boldness that’s curated by the warmth he’s feeling.

Neither of them say anything as Ryan’s sneakers slowly move to rest comfortably on top of the toes of Shane’s boots, fitting together perfectly.

The wind blows their hair softly, the shift in emotions swirling above their heads. Shane wants to get closer, he always does, but for right now this is good. He chews on his straw and listens to Ryan rattle off ideas for the next True Crime season. It feels good, it feels how change is supposed to feel.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

It’s at the Dauphine Hotel that the shift between them is verbally communicated.

The hotel is incredibly nice, Shane would even go as far as to say it’s pretty damn swanky, of course Ryan didn’t think so. Because _it’s haunted, Shane_. He rolls his eyes and wants to twine their fingers together so bad it hurts.

“If there’s anybody out here- I know there’s a lady that likes dancing,” Ryan announces when they’re outside at the pool. There’s a bright grin on his face as he looks back at Shane.

“My friend here knows the waltz,” he adds. Shane’s hands go sweaty and he shifts. Was Ryan implying they dance the waltz together out here? If he is, Shane thinks, his heart may give out.

“I– I don’t know the waltz.” He does know the waltz. Because he’s a weird idiot that knows weird things.

“Yea you do-“

“Well I mean I know it’s like a– three, four, six step..” Shane trails off. Ryan continues talking to the ghost. This is stupid. He starts waltzing anyways, stepping toward Ryan’s turned back in a moment of bravery.

Ryan turns around and the pool lights cast a warm light behind him. The mirthful smile on his face wavers and he watches Shane waltzing like a dumbass for a few seconds before he follows his lead. Shane can feel himself smiling back. How could he not?

There’s equipment in both of their hands, and Shane thanks any possible deity for it. Because otherwise the look on Ryan’s face would have made him do something stupid by now. Like take him by the hands and show him how to properly waltz. Or pull him close just to feel him.

“We’d set this stuff down to make this more realistic for you– but I’m afraid one of your ghostie friends will roll it into the pool,” Ryan says to the ghost again, snickering. He flicks his eyes back up to Shane and there’s something there. Something different.

Shane stumbles a bit, heart pounding in his chest. They’re less than a foot apart and the corner of Ryan’s mouth is raised into the softest of smiles. Shane’s counting trails off, whispering now.

Suddenly, Ryan jumps and lets out a startled scream. Shane jolts in return, grabbing his chest and seizing up.

“What. Is. Wrong. With. You,” he heaves, looking over at the younger man who is doubled over and laughing now. Shane’s cheeks heat up, embarrassed at the dancing now.

“I thought– god– I thought there was something in that window up there. It’s just a person,” Ryan wheezes, catching his breath and holding a hand over his heart as he straightens up.

And just like that, the moment slips away. Fragments of it are eaten up by Shane needling him and Ryan’s laughter filling up the pool area.

  
—

  
They lay on the hotel bed still in their clothes. It’s massive and yet Shane’s feet are still at the very end. The sheets are soft underneath his hands and he can hear Ryan settle against the headboard beside him. Their shoulders are touching and Shane’s mind is wandering as Ryan turns off his flashlight.

In the dark, Shane focuses on the shaky sigh Ryan lets out. Why does he do this to himself?

“Oh god,” Ryan mumbles.

“You won’t hear anything if you keep making noise, Ryan,” Shane admonishes in a soft tone. Ryan breathes out again, high and stressed. And suddenly Shane can’t help but imagine what he’d sound like if he turned and kissed him, pressed him into the sheets. Cradling his hip and sliding a hand under his shirt.

“Dude! Did you hear that?” Ryan asks, panicked. Shane starts out of his daze, face heating up when he realizes Ryan’s been talking this whole time meanwhile he’s been stuck in some achillean daydream about him.

“No, I haven’t been hearing anything but your heavy breathing,” Shane teases. Ryan curses at him and his body goes rigid with fear. Shane struggles to try and hear whatever it is that has Ryan losing it.

“Footsteps, you idiot,” Ryan rasps nervously. His hand reaches out for Shane’s arm as he sits up in the bed.

“I don’t hear anything,” Shane mumbles, distracted by Ryan’s stupid hand on his stupid arm again. They’re both quiet, Shane’s heart hammering loud in his ears. Ryan lets out a sigh of relief after a few moments of silence and flops back against the bed, clicking his flashlight back on and peeling his hand off of Shane’s arm.

Shane clears his throat, pointedly not looking at Ryan.

“So are we gonna use the jacuzzi or not?”

“Jesus Christ, Shane.”

  
__

 

“Is this gonna be like in Pretty Woman? When she spoons him in the tub?” Ryan cackles and tugs his shirt off. Shane is losing his mind between shirtless Ryan and imagining that.

The bathroom is steaming up and he feels like he’d be a lot more stressed out if it wasn’t for TJ laughing at them with a camera positioned at them, oddly enough. He can’t believe he’s about to sit in a fucking bathtub with Ryan. This is so ridiculous. He shouldn’t have even brought up the jacuzzi.

He pulls his own shirt off and watches Ryan climb into the tub. It’s cute, watching him sit down in the water slowly, shorts billowing up.

TJ is cackling now, Ryan turning and grinning up at both of them. He’s so fucking gorgeous.

“The jets don’t work,” he says, pulling his knees up to his chest. Shane steps into the tub, sitting with his legs crossed. He laughs and covers his face.

“This is so stupid,” he tells Ryan, shaking his head and pressing the buttons for the jets. Ryan’s right, they don’t work. The absurdity makes Shane laugh harder.

“You’re the one that wanted to sit in the _luxurious_ jacuzzi! We’re just two guys sitting in a tub,” Ryan exclaims, resting his chin on his folded arms and looking at Shane with those stupidly big brown eyes. Shane’s breath hitches, he covers it up with a wheezy laugh.

Ryan’s in a fit of laughter now, the water splashing slightly around them.

“I mean, it’s still nice I guess. Nicer than a dirty floor,” he remarks. His feet move to bracket Ryan’s like they did at the table the other day. Ryan sighs as the warm water rolls down his toned shoulders. Shane’s mouth is very dry.

He suddenly remembers TJ’s presence and he snaps out of it, folding his legs again and shifting further from Ryan.

A blush spreads its way across Ryan’s cheeks and Shane does not fucking miss it. He stares at it, enamored and ecstatic. Maybe Ryan didn’t want him to move away. Maybe Ryan wishes it was just them, alone together like they were at that table in the sun. Shane would have the balls to kiss him now, he thinks.

“We should probably get out before we get all pruney,” Ryan says softly. Shane hums and nods, smiling crookedly at him.

Shane helps him up out of the tub and he can feel Ryan’s hand shake when he does.

  
__

 

They’ve been here before. There’s no pillow wall this time. Just Shane and Ryan lying side by side in the dark. Shane’s feet are hanging off the bed. Ryan’s throat clicks as he swallows. He’s scared, but this time Shane can’t tell at what exactly.

“Hey Shane,” he whispers. Shane hums.

“Are you awake?” he asks. Shane laughs. He sounds like a little kid at a sleepover. He rolls over to face Ryan, feeling a little more confident now.

“Yea duh,” Shane scoffs, “—you keep shaking,” he adds, more tenderly. He can make out Ryan’s profile in the dark. The gentle slope of his soft cheeks and his straight nose. He’s chewing on his lip nervously.

“Sorry, I’m freaking out,” he murmurs. Shane shifts, sliding a hand under his pillow and moving it so he can try and see Ryan better. It’s a lost cause without his glasses.

“It’s okay. Why?” Shane replies. Ryan takes a deep breath.

“Ghosts y’know. I can feel it. Well, I can feel _something_. It’s different, I don’t know,” he says. His voice is so small it makes Shane want to wrap him up and pull him in close. _I can feel something_.

“There’s nothing in this room besides me and you,” Shane assures. He swears he can hear Ryan’s breath quicken. He doesn’t argue with him like he normally does. They fall into a tense silence.

Ryan rolls over and faces Shane. God, Shane wishes the lights were on so he could see the little freckle on the outside of Ryan’s iris. He can’t tell how close they are but it feels close enough.

“Shane.”

“Yea?”

Ryan clears his throat. “Do you– do you ever think like, like something’s happening?”

Shane swallows and licks his lips nervously.

“Something is always happening, Ryan. You’d have to be more specific,” he jokes. Ryan huffs.

“No I mean like– like do you ever feel like the longer we know each other, you and me, it’s like we’ve got a list of things we can be together. And we just keep checking things off,” he continues, voice shaking a little bit.

Yes, Shane wants to shout. He holds it back out of fear. This is so fragile.

“Like what?”

Ryan sighs again, frustrated.

“Like, we’re so many things at once. We just keep adding to the list. We’re coworkers. Cohosts. Ghost hunting partners. Friends. Enemies, sometimes. Best friends probably,” he explains. His voice is trembling. His knee knocks against Shane’s by accident but he doesn’t move it.

“Yea, I get what you’re saying,” Shane breathes. He hears Ryan swallow again.

“I just– I feel like we’re approaching something else. Something is different. And I was just wondering– if you felt that too,” he finishes, worked up with anxiety. He’s breathing fast and Shane is a tiny bit worried he’s going to send himself into an panic.

“Yes,” he says. His voice doesn’t waver. He’s sure. He knows what he’s felt. And he feels a hesitant sweetness tighten itself around his gut.

“Yes?” Ryan rushes out. He sounds relieved.

“Yes, I know what you mean. I’ve– I’ve been driving myself crazy about it,” Shane confesses. It feels so good to talk about it. Ryan let’s out a long breath.

“I thought maybe I was right, when we were down by the pool but– I don’t know. I was scared,” Ryan whispers. Shane can feel himself grinning.

“Me too,” he replies warmly. Ryan laughs.

“You? Scared? First time for everything I guess,” he teases. Shane snorts softly. They fall into silence again. The timidness creeps back in.

“You slept on me at the Lizzie Borden house. Did you know that?” Shane asks. Ryan’s breath hitches.

“I thought maybe I did,” he mumbles. Shane clears his throat. He just– wants to make sure this is real.

“I woke up,” his hand slowly slides in between the two of them, “–and your head was on my chest.”

He’s getting bold. His hand finds Ryan’s. “And your hand was grabbing at my shirt like– like you were afraid something was going to take me from you.”

Their fingers lace together and he can feel Ryan’s breath against his face.

“And I was holding you too. I was so scared you were going to wake up and freak out. So I freaked out myself and ran downstairs. I wish I hadn’t.”

Shane brings their hands up in between them, stroking his thumb over Ryan’s. They’re so close, the bed feels even bigger.

“Yea?” Ryan breathes out. Shane’s struggling to breathe a little as well. Like two scared teenagers in the dark.

“Yea.”

“Shane?”

“Yea?”

“I wish you hadn’t too.”

  
_

  
Ryan is up and down frequently throughout the night. Claiming he keeps hearing footsteps. Shane sprawls out on the bed while he’s gone, staring up at the ceiling and smiling drowsily. He can hear Ryan talking to the camera outside.

“See any ghosts?” Shane taunts groggily when Ryan reenters the hotel room.

“Shut up, no. And you’ve gotta be lying about not hearing anything, those footsteps are loud as fuck. Move over,” he whispers as he climbs into the bed again. The bed dips a little under his weight and Shane remains sprawled out stubbornly.

“Come here,” he says, lazily patting his chest. Ryan pauses before relenting and curling up against his side. He sighs.

Shane can feel him smile against his chest.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

  
Things cool off for a while. Shane gets scared again and doesn’t bring it up because he’s a wimp. But when they both look at each other they just _know_. It’s driving Shane up the wall, sitting beside Ryan everyday and not knowing if he can scoot closer or not when Ryan flicks his eyes over at him. It was a lot easier in the dark with just the two of them. They eat lunch together, Ryan’s feet on top of his. It’s all so uncertain and new, Shane’s afraid he’ll ruin it. He thinks Ryan is too.

Ryan sits down at their conjoined desk five days after the Dauphine Hotel episode has aired. They had to cut most of the moments of them sleeping. Ryan oversaw that. Shane had watched him edit it all out carefully with a red face.

“Quinta’s having a party tonight,” he announces. He’s wearing that soft gray sweatshirt, the collar of his blue t-shirt peaking out. Shane blinks up at him.

“Okay, are you going?” he asks nonchalantly. Ryan nods. Shane hums.

“Guess I will too.”

Ryan clicks away at his computer screen. Shane sips his coffee.

“So like, are we going together?” Ryan asks. Shane looks over at him. Of course they’ve shown up together at parties before. But this would be different. He knows he and Ryan aren’t very subtle people, he’s pretty sure TJ is already catching on to whatever is happening. Sara has already asked him twice today if he and Ryan are okay. _You guys seem totally tense._

(He said: _We’re fine, just tired_. He meant: _We’re currently in this relationship limbo and I’m worried Ryan has changed his mind._ )

“Is that what you want?” Shane asks. Ryan is looking at him now, chewing at the inside of his cheek and drumming his fingers on the table.

“Is that what _you_ want?” he responds. Shane rolls his eyes. He’s not brave enough to give him a real answer. 

“But what do you want, Ryan?”

Ryan huffs at him, knows he won’t win this time, and crosses his arms.

“I _want_ you to pick me up at 7:45,” he mutters. Shane nods, trying his best not to grin. It’s cute.

“Okay, sure thing buddy,” Shane says casually, just to frustrate him more. It’s what he’s best at. Beside him, Ryan uncrosses his arms and leaves his hand dangling underneath the desk.

“And I _want_ you to hold my hand under this stupid desk,” Ryan murmurs, cutting his eyes over to him secretively. Shane flushes and smiles, looking straight at his computer screen as he reaches down and twines their fingers together. He places their conjoined hands on the top of Ryan’s knee and he doesn’t miss the way Ryan looks down and smiles.

“Idiot,” Ryan remarks. His tone is so fond it makes the word sound sweet and Shane squeezes his hand tighter.

 

__

 

“Oh, Ryan and Shane are here!”

Shane and Ryan are funneled into Quinta’s apartment by Sara. Her curls are wild and look freshly dyed, cheeks flushed by the drink in her hand. She wraps the two of them in a tight squeeze as they enter. Three warm smiles, Shane’s long arms wrapping around both of their backs like a Shane sandwich.

“Hey, you two are late,” Quinta calls from the couch. Eugene is propped up beside her, already looking hammered. Sara pulls away from them and plops down on the arm of the couch.

“I didn’t know there was a set time,” Shane replies, looking at his watch curiously. Wow, they’d taken their sweet time getting over here.

Well, they _had_ gotten into a heated discussion about what the best ride at Disney was. And maybe Shane kept it going just to see Ryan get worked up. Maybe.

He realizes his arm is still wrapped around Ryan’s waist. Eugene is eyeing them. _Mysterious bastard_.

“Nah, I’m just kidding. There’s drinks in the kitchen, help yourself,” Quinta says, turning back to her phone.

Ryan looks up at him, lips parted, before he takes in all the people in Quinta’s apartment. People they know well and people they barely know.

“Are you okay?” Shane asks, voice hushed. The music playing in the apartment is a soft party mix, Shane can’t even make out the words. Everyone around them is talking and mingling while they’re still standing by the door.

“Oh yea, I’m fine. I’m gonna get a drink, come with me,” Ryan answers, jerking his head in the direction of the kitchen. Shane follows him faithfully, just like he always seems to do.

TJ, of course, is in the kitchen when they enter. Ryan stops in the doorway, back pressed against Shane’s front. TJ is leaning against the counter casually and he throws up a peace sign at them when he looks up from his phone.

“Hey man,” Ryan greets, stepping into the kitchen and looking almost disappointed to see him. Shane waves at TJ.

“What’s up?” TJ asks. Shane watches as Ryan freezes up some, eyes wide.

“N-nothing, nothing’s up, why would you ask that?” Ryan rushes out, voice high with nerves. Shane goes still and his eyes flick between the two of them. He struggles not to laugh at Ryan’s nervous face, despite feeling oddly nervous as well.

TJ holds his hands up in surrender. “Dude I just meant like, what’s up, what’s going on? Qué pasa? How are you doing?”

Ryan gawks at him for a second before his face goes red. Shane stifles back a laugh. God, that was cute.

“Oh, oh yea of course sorry. Yea, I’m good,” Ryan says, like the wind has been knocked out of him. He grabs a beer out of the cooler and TJ gives him a strange look. Shane leans against the counter casually, crossing his ankles.

“You should have let me help with the editing dude, I think you’re sleep deprived,” he laughs.

Shane shoots Ryan a look across the room, loves the heat on his cheeks. Ryan pulls his gaze away from him and laughs weakly at TJ.

“Nah, dude, it’s cool. I’m fine. We’re fine,” he says, too fast. TJ glances over at Shane with another odd look on his face and Shane merely shrugs.

“O-kay,” he drawls before taking a swig of his beer, patting Shane on the shoulder, and sauntering out of the kitchen.

It’s just them now, and Shane can feel how anxious Ryan is. It fills the kitchen up and he wants to cross the room and pull him in.

“Hey, you okay?” he asks. Ryan sighs and rubs a hand down his face, shaking his head. The movement sets Shane on edge. What if this was a bad idea? What if Ryan is regretting this?

“I’m fine I just– all our friends are here and I just– feel like everybody is looking at us and I feel overwhelmed. And I feel like I should be like holding your hand in front of everybody but I don’t want it to be a big _thing_ you know. I just wanna skip to the part where– I don’t know. I’m in my head, sorry,” Ryan explains quietly, leaning against the counter beside Shane and taking a drink from his beer. Shane blinks at him.

“And– and you haven’t told me what you want,” he adds. The “ _and I don’t know where our boundaries are_ ” goes unsaid. Shane’s palms sweat.

Kelsey strolls into the kitchen with Zach at that exact moment, of course. They’re chattering away, greeting them half heartedly. Shane wants to groan but he waves at the two of them politely before taking Ryan by the arm and pulling him out of the kitchen and into the hallway.

The hallway is narrow and dimly lit, the only source of light coming from the kitchen doorway. A shadow is cast on Ryan’s face, jean jacket looking relaxed on his shoulders. He rests his back against the wall, standing across from Shane and looking more guarded than he should. It makes his stomach flip.

“What do you mean?” Shane asks in a hushed voice, licking his lips and waiting for Ryan to look at him. He looks up at him after a few stubborn moments with those earnest brown eyes. Shane notices that freckle next to his iris.

“I don’t know what you want out of this, Shane. We haven’t really talked about it since Dauphine. I know we were just kinda– seeing what happens I guess, but I want to talk about it. Explicitly,” Ryan explains, uncrossing his arms and putting his hands in his jacket pockets. Shane steps closer to him.

“I–“ he cuts himself off. He doesn’t know how to put it into words.  _I like you so much it makes me wonder if it’s more? I want to be close to you? I want you?_

They’re standing inches apart, Ryan’s eyes drop down to his mouth. His back is pressed flat against the wall, Shane’s feet knocking together with his.

Their relationship has always moved in well-defined stages. Like walking up a flight of stairs. From strangers to acquaintances, to coworkers to friends, to cohosts to partners, to best friends, and now to this; Shane looming over Ryan in a softly lit hallway with their breath mingling together.

“Shane,” Ryan whispers. Shane more so feels it than he does hear it. He’s getting closer, craning his body down. It’s slow. Hesitant. They’ve got all the time in the world.

“You– you’re so short,” Shane breathes out a laugh. Ryan huffs and angles his face up, eyes fluttering closed.

“Like this?” he asks. His hands come out of his pockets, dangling limply at his sides. Shane’s hands slide down and rest on his forearms, one slipping further and encircling his wrist.

Their noses brush together, foreheads meeting gently.

“What I want is– I want to do this with you,” Shane mumbles before finally, _finally_ pressing his mouth against Ryan’s, eyes slipping shut.

It’s so mind-meltingly soft. One of Ryan’s hands finds its way to his flannel, loosely gripping it. He lets out a sigh when Shane gently presses him further into the wall. He lets go of Ryan’s wrist in favor of placing it on his hip, the denim jacket bunching up underneath his hand.

They part for air, Ryan’s palm sliding up to rest on Shane’s chest as their foreheads touch and noses knock together. Wow. _Wow_. He kissed Ryan and Ryan kissed him back.

“Oh,” Ryan says softly, drumming his fingers against Shane’s chest lightly. They thrum along with his heartbeat, quick and rhythmic.

“Yea,” Shane responds lamely. They’ve fully crossed over that imaginary line they’d drawn up. They’ve added something much softer to their list of dynamics, right beside best friends.

“So you wanna–“

“I wanna be with you. If that’s what you want too,” Shane clarifies, searching Ryan’s face for any signs of regret or hesitance. Ryan only smiles at him, bright and broad.

“Duh, I want that too. _Shane_ ,” he sounds almost giddy. He reaches up, threading his hand in Shane’s messy hair before he pulls him down to kiss him on the corner of the mouth. And then he kisses him again, properly. They’re both smiling into it, it’s ridiculous. Shane can feel warmth all the way in the tips of his fingers.

Shane laughs against his mouth, kissing across his cheek and down his jaw. He feels the slight stubble there as it brushes against his own. Ryan’s hand slides down to the nape of his neck, breath hitching when Shane places a soft kiss between his ear and jaw.

“Shane,” Ryan rasps. Shane only hums in acknowledgment, lips still pressed against Ryan’s jaw.

“I like this a lot, but we’re in Quinta’s hallway,” he informs, snickering at him. Shane pulls away, looking down at him with a lopsided smirk.

“Oh. Yea. We could– leave?” he suggests. “Give everyone the ol’ Irish goodbye.”

Ryan looks apprehensive again.

“Do we tell everybody?” he questions. Shane frowns in confusion. “I just don’t want this turning into cheap office gossip. It’s too– important to me.”

Shane chuckles softly, relieved for the hundredth time this night. He presses a lazy kiss against Ryan’s forehead. Yea, he gets it.

“We don’t have to explain ourselves, y’know,” he replies, mouth in Ryan’s hair. “We could just waltz outta here as a couple.”

He meets Ryan’s eyes with solidarity. This shift is new and delicate. He’s drinking it in. Drinking him in. It tastes sweet.

They walk down the stretch of the hallway together, hands tangled as they enter the living room. Surrounded suddenly in a sea of their friends, their coworkers, they murmur a goodbye to Sara and Quinta. Eugene grins at them, Zach pressed along his side.

Shane can feel the eyes on their hands, but Ryan is leading him through the door and out of the apartment before he can care too much about it.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Shane walks him to his apartment, the two of them climbing up the stairs side by side. Ryan’s hand is wrapped around his arm.

He kisses him again outside his door. It’s not uncertain this go around. Ryan likes him so fucking much. Shane does too. He can feel it in the shy way his hand cradles his face.

They say goodnight, Shane traipsing down the stairs. Ryan watches him go. He keeps looking back at Ryan, smiling at him.

He’ll see him tomorrow. They’ll sit outside in the sun together. Just the two of them.

  
_______

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr @: ryanbigara


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